


Studying, Very Hard

by cmshaw



Category: Oglaf
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Magic, Object Insertion, Teacher/Student, Waxplay, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hot" as a synonym for "sexy" is less common from people who've been on fire. The exceptions make excellent fire magicians.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Studying, Very Hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miarr/gifts).



It started with the candlestick rocking. Ivan looked up from his workbook just in time to see it toppling onto the stack of books from the library. "Shit!" he yelled, lunging for it, and managed to send it spinning off the far side of the table, and also to knock his inkwell over so that black ink splattered across the books instead. "Shit!" he yelled again, louder, and realized that the whole table was rattling. "My spell!" he said. "It worked!" He grabbed the ink-soaked copy of _101 Ways to Make the Earth Move_ and shook it overhead. "It worked!" Then the canopy of his bed caught fire. It lit up with a whoosh and threw the whole room into hellish brightness, which was the point at which Ivan saw his Mistress standing in the doorway laughing.

"SHIT!" he shrieked, sitting up in bed -- a bed suddenly cool, and not at all on fire. Just in case, he pushed back the blankets, staggered up, and checked the door to his rooms. He was alone. On the way back to bed, he checked his worktable: the candles were unlit, the inkwell was stoppered tightly, and from the top of the pristine stack of books _101 Ways to Make the Earth Move_ taunted him with its unworkable spells.

* * *

It started with the candlestick rocking just as Ivan looked up from his workbook. just as it started twitching, the central bulb flexing like the Xoan Ambassador's hips in a conga line. Pressing his lips together, Ivan grabbed for it, but it twisted away from his fingers. "No!" Ivan snapped, and he flung himself belly down on the table to catch the candlestick in both hands. It spat a couple of sparks and then sullenly extinguished. Ivan sighed in relief just before the table cracked in half and spilled him down through the trap door beneath him, the one which opened into the chute out the side of the castle. An icy downdraft hit him, and Ivan's arms windmilled as he fell past a balcony. His Mistress leaned on the railing, drink in hand, and blew a kiss at him. "Help!" he shrieked, and woke himself up.

He knew it was pointless, but he still got out of bed, put on his slippers, and crawled underneath his worktable. There was no trap door there, at least not that he could find with any prodding or that one unlocking spell that he couldn't really make work yet.

* * *

It didn't start with the candlestick rocking, because Ivan had cleaned off the table and set everything except for his workbook, his smallest inkwell, and one pen on various shelves. Feeling smug, he broke the spell down into its component resonances and noted each one on his worksheet, trying the combinations methodically. On the fourteenth one, the cabinet behind him thumped into the wall. Ivan turned in slow motion horror as the candlestick rolled off the top of the sheet-covered cabinet and landed on his lap, but the cabinet didn't fall on him. Instead, it thumped back against the wall a second time, this time to the sound of shattering glass. The sheet burst apart as a creamy tidal wave broke over Ivan and a massive voice bellowed, "TELLING! I'M TELLING! YOU'LL BE IN TROUBLE WITH MISTRESS!"

Ivan rolled over in bed. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he said. After lighting the small candle by his bed, he picked up the larger candlestick on his worktable and hefted it thoughtfully in his hand. It was new -- yesterday the Mistress had picked it up from her windowsill and tossed it at him while forgiving his failures with earth magics, suggesting that he concentrate on fire instead. It looked like an ordinary metal candlestick with three lumps above the flared base and his own plain wax candle stuffed into the top. In retrospect, it was clearly demonic. Frowning, he pried his candle out and poked dubiously at the wax bits left inside.

There was a pounding at his door. Ivan grabbed his helmet, stuffed it on his head in case of owls, and opened the door.

"Ah, apprentice," purred the Mistress. "I saw that you were studying very late and stopped by to admire your hard work."

Ivan swallowed. "Um. Thank you."

The Mistress thrust her hips forward. Ivan automatically shifted back and, with a smile, the Mistress pushed past him into his room. "Show me your progress," she said.

"Er, now?" Ivan said. Certainly, he knew better than to use the word 'no'.

"Stage fright?" the Mistress said. She put a finger under his chin and tipped his head back, then ran her fingernail down his neck. Ivan swallowed again.

"Yes?" he said.

The Mistress took the candlesticks out of his hands as he gestured his helplessness. She tsked and pried the lit candle out of his small bedside holder, then flicked her fingers to transfer it to the candlestick that she'd given him. She waved the lit candle in front of his face and said, "Fire magic! No? Let me give you some inspiration." She wore fingerless gloves that ran up her arms almost to her shoulders, the only substantial fabric in her current outfit, and apparently they sufficed to keep her hands warm (or perhaps Ivan was simply running cold) because her fingers felt red-hot as she pinched his nipples. Ivan yelped. Terrifyingly, the Mistress smiled more. "Let's fuck. That's inspiring," she said.

Ivan clamped both hands protectively over his penis. "What's the catch?" he asked. "Wait, are my nipples smoking?"

"You'd better have an orgasm in the next three minutes," the Mistress said.

"Three minutes?" Ivan said.

The Mistress waggled her eyebrows, spun him around, and pushed him down on the bed.

"I don't like this lesson!" Ivan wailed, but he stripped off his pajama pants and slippers anyway.

"Isn't this what you wanted to learn?" she asked, wrapping one hand around his stupidly hard cock.

"Yes!" Ivan said. "What? Did I, I mean, yes."

"Excellent!" the Mistress said, and tipped the candle so that its wax dripped onto the head of his cock. Ivan shrieked at the top of his lungs before it even hit, but the pain struck and was gone so fast he hardly had time to recognize it as a burn. "No, no, higher pitched," the Mistress told him, and dribbled more wax down the shaft and onto his balls. It burned, it burned, and Ivan curled up his legs far too late and rolled in a vain attempt to protect his cock. His cock was either incredibly, unbelievably stupid or was just held stiff by its waxy coating, because it still stuck out hard and throbbed a bit.

The Mistress grabbed Ivan's ass just as Ivan realized what he'd just made vulnerable. Ivan's cock throbbed so hard that the wax cracked in half, but his cock was still stiff. Accepting the inevitable, Ivan bit down hard on his own hand to muffle his moaning.

"There's a good apprentice," the Mistress told him, and slid the candlestick into his ass candle-first. It went in smooth and hot, but every decoration on the candlestick felt like a fiery spike.

Ivan bit down hard on his hand and wondered if it was worth trying to knock the rest of the wax off of his cock. His ass was burning and the faster he came, the faster it might possibly be done. He could feel the Mistress thrusting it shallowly a few times, and then she pulled it entirely out. He glanced over his shoulder. The candle was--

"How is it still burning?!" he yelled.

The Mistress narrowed her eyes.

"I mean, it's very impressive magic, yes, fire magic that I will definitely be studying," Ivan babbled. "Oh god, my ass."

"Mmm, your ass? Like this?" she said, and pushed the candlestick into his ass so slowly that he could feel the flame searing him. "Thirty seconds," she added.

It was hard to concentrate with a lit candlestick in his ass. "Thirty seconds, right," Ivan said, "ooh, oh, wait, my nipples!" What could extinguish his nipples?

The Mistress spanked him hard on one buttock. "I don't think you're hurrying," she said, thrusting much deeper.

"Yes!" Ivan gasped. He shoved one hand down between his thighs and started smacking. Where had all of this wax come from? Where the hell were his balls in there? What was going to happen if his nipples did ignite in the next five seconds?

Excruciating pain was the answer to the last question, it turned out. Ivan screamed and tried to scramble away from his own chest, but lurching backwards only slid him back on the candlestick, all the way down to the base. "Fire!" he screamed. "Fire!"

And then the inkwell on his worktable exploded, the worktable itself cracked in half, and his cabinet shattered. And then, as if that wasn't enough, the ceiling collapsed, followed by the entire castle and possibly some of the mountain range. A choking cloud of stone dust blanketed everything. Ivan covered his face with both hands, trying to clear a space big enough for coughing, and finally realized that the dust seemed to have put out all of the fires, including the ones on his body. Also, something was moving under him.

Ivan shifted one elbow just enough to lift himself up, and a familiar white blob hopped its way up the bed. "You're in trouble!" it called in a shrill little voice.

Ivan coughed, experimentally, and realized that he wasn't inhaling any dust. Flipping over, he could also see the familiar ceiling up there above the unburnt canopy of his bed.

"I'm telling!" the cumsprite announced as it leapt toward the door.

"Go ahead," Ivan groaned. He sat up cautiously; nothing in the room was broken, but his ass was still very sore. On the table beside his bed, the tall candlestick had a dribble of wax running down from the stub of its candle, and there was a note underneath it. Ivan picked it up.

 _Pop quiz grade_ , it said. _84\. Passable. There will be a party in your honor after dinner tonight._

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Ivan said, and pulled up one knee to start working the wax out of his pubic hair.


End file.
